


Big Brother, Little Brother

by White_Noise



Series: The Other Life of Quentin Holmes, Quartermaster [6]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Q is a Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:18:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Noise/pseuds/White_Noise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spy and a detective sit in a cafe, trying not to kill each other as they discuss their relationships with a certain Quartermaster. This is the very real life of Quentin Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Brother, Little Brother

**Author's Note:**

> Argh. I have got to stop myself from doing this. Still haven't seen this movie (three more days) and yet here I am, three stories in and still going strong. I am thinking of making this officially a series.
> 
> So this story is set between my other two stories. 
> 
> Again dedicated to Cathryn, who needs to learn not to encourage me. Or at least to hold off until we see the film.

It was a sunny day in London, one of the few in these cold winter months and Agent James Bond of MI6 was determined to make the most of it. 

He was rarely in London, his job often forcing him to move around the planet and even when he was in the United Kingdom, more often than not, he was buried somewhere deep in the maze that was MI6 or, as was the case for the last several weeks, trapped indoors by the endless bloody rain.

But, not today. No, today James had taken the first opportunity to leave the building behind and enjoy the sun. 

Of course, he technically was supposed to report to Q Branch. Something about needing his input into features for a new gun. 

James had in fact gone to the meeting…for the first three minutes, at least, before he realised that everything could be done outside the confinements of the building and had taken his Quartermaster hostage, pulling the younger man to his feet and dragging him by the arm as he navigated them both out of the building. 

Q had fought against Bonds grip for the first few minutes, verbally and physically engaging with the spy before giving up. Q had put up an impressive fight against the Double O and would be sporting James hand print on his arm for the next few days as a testament to his struggles but it was all for nothing. 

Although the thought of a hand shaped bruise on Q’s arm did please James more then he thought was possible. The idea of Q sporting any of James’ marks was strangely exciting.  
Q had spent most of the rest of the walk ignoring the looks of the few people the pair passed and muttering under his breath about traitorous scientists and inept security letting him be abducted before the sudden sunlight seemed to shock him into silence. 

Finally confident that the young genius wouldn’t make a break for it and try to return to his underground hiding place, James released him before turning to follow the street in search of the nearest café. 

Maybe it was force of habit from the times they had walked back to Q’s apartment together (James was looking for a new apartment, honestly) but the Quartermaster quickly caught up, falling into step beside the agent. 

James glanced once at Q before spotting a small place just down the road. Silently, he directed the Quartermaster to a seat at the small table outside the café before sliding into the one opposite. 

“Abduction, Bond? Really?” Q muttered, rubbing his injured arm though the thick wool of his jumper. 

James couldn’t help but smile in amusement, a smile which quickly disappeared as the young Quartermaster reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone. 

Q didn’t seem to notice the look as he unlocked the phone and began a text. 

“Put it away.” He growled.

Q looked over the top of his glasses, blue eyes giving James a disbelieving look.

“And why should I do that?” Q asked, once again looking down at the screen, fingers dancing across the tiny keyboard. “You interrupted me in the middle of my work and didn’t even let me finish despite there being a distinct possibility I was working with someone currently in the field.”

“But you weren’t.” James couldn’t help but point out. He may be reckless and selfish but he would never put his fellow agents in danger if he could help it. Well…maybe some of them but only if they had annoyed him. And never through Q. That was a level even Bond was not prepared to stoop to.

Q shrugged.

“I might have been.” He replied.

Across the table, James shook his head. Leaning forward, he placed his elbow on the edge of the table and rested his chin against his palm. He fixed the Quartermaster with a blue eyed stare. 

Q ignored him, continuing to type but James didn’t give up. He knew that many people thought his stares disconcerting and it was only a matter of time. 

And work it did, the Quartermaster sighing and looking up from the phone.

“What is this, Double O Seven?” He asked softly. “Why did you drag me out here?”

James blinked. Why did he drag the Quartermaster out here? 

To talk obviously. And in a far more pleasant environment then back in the building. And yet, James wasn’t certain that was the whole truth. If he were more honest with himself, he would admit that he liked spending time with the Quartermaster. Q was friendly (When he wasn’t being dragged away in the middle of his work), intelligent (Almost too intelligent. MI6 didn’t suffer fools but sometimes, James thought that Q did, simply because he worked for MI6), he had an evil sense of humour and because, at a glance, Q seemed to be able to tell James entire history, from where he had been the night before, who he had shagged and even what he had eaten for breakfast that very morning. It was remarkable and fascinating. And yet, James knew almost nothing about the Quartermaster.

Oh, he knew little facts. He knew that, while Q loved his Earl Grey, giving him English Breakfast was an open declaration of war. He knew that although Q had a vast collection of great works of literature, there was a complete set of Harry Potter novels hidden away on his bookshelf. He knew that Q preferred SuDoKu over the daily crossword and had a nasty habit of chewing pencils when he was bored.

But, those were all surface facts. They gave absolutely no information of the mind behind them. James didn’t know how old Q was, where he went to school, who his friends were, if he had any family left or even what his real name was. 

Q was a mystery, and one which James was not sure he was ever going to solve. Normally this would not bother him. James could respect others privacy. But for the first time ever, James found himself wanting to unravel this, to find out what made Q into the man he was.

Q was staring at him, a look on his face suggesting the younger man was growing impatient with James’ silence.

Standing up, James gestured to the phone still in Q hands.

“That had better be gone by the time I get back.” He said as he turned to the door of the café and made his way inside.  
Behind him, Q rolled his eyes.

\-------

Q rolled his eyes, watching as the normally smooth agent stammer the threat and retreated. James had been acting odd from the moment Q had followed him out of the building, acting distant and yet possessive. 

The way he had gripped Q’s arm as he had almost physically removed the younger man from Q branch was certainly going to cause some gossip among some of the others. Rumours of possessive behaviour and territorial Double O’s if not something far worse. The fact that the rest of the Branch already knew that Bond was currently living with him would not help matters.

If Q were anyone else, he would be worried about his reputation at that moment. But Q wasn’t worried. Being a Holmes boy meant Q had a unique outlook on the world. Rumours were easy to weather and, if worse came to worse, the threat to reveal certain private pieces of information regarding certain; well-chosen individuals would be enough to stop anything unpleasant. That, and despite being one of the younger members of Q Branch, Q was still the boss and held a well-respected position. Only the bloody minded and suicidal would challenge him. 

Still, it was irritating that Bond thought he could simply steal Q whenever he felt like it. 

Q had been in the middle of deconstructing a rather interesting security program when the man had arrived; replying to Q’s own summons regarding weaponry and more specifically, how to stop it being eaten by bloody giant lizards. 

Q had begun his prepared speech regarding the expenses and effort which it took to create the weapons in the first place. Although Q hadn’t fooled himself into believing that Bond was listening to him, he had hoped that the other man would have the decency to actually let him finish before completely disregarding him. 

The Quartermaster had not, however, expected the spy to grab him by the arm and all but drag him from the room. Q had fought in Bond’s hold, more to show his displeasure at being dragged from his work, than anything else, but had quit fighting the moment he had realised that the agent wasn’t going to change his mind. 

Better to relax and enjoy whatever the Double O had planned. 

He hadn’t expected it to be the rather nice little café down the street, nor did he expect Bond’s first act when arriving there was to grumble about Q’s phone before silently trying to stare him down. 

Those blue eyes were rather worrisome when directed at him for no reason. 

Finally, Bond had retreated into the shop and Q had gotten back to work. He had texted Maggie, one of his helpers, to forward some of his codes to his phone and was now patiently decoding them. 

He continued to ignore his observer. The observer continued to study him. 

Finally, this new person stepped forward.

Q sighed.

“Bored again?” He asked, continuing to chip away at the code. 

There was a snort. Q decided to continue.

“I take it Doctor Watson is at work?” He said.

The observer turned, grabbing a chair from an empty table before turning back and in one graceful move, sat down.

Q finally looked up, his eyes meeting those of his brother. 

Sherlock was staring at him, mimicking the look Bond had only just given him moments before.

“You’ve been busy.” Sherlock muttered, leaning even closer. “I take it that would be the Double O inside. I would suggest that if he is harassing you, you should complain to Mycroft but I know you won’t.” 

Q snorted.

“Would you tell Mycroft about how the police harass you on a day to day basis? What was his name? Anderson?” 

Sherlock pulled a face at the thought but at least the message had been received. 

“I want to talk to him.” The detective stated. 

With a sigh, Q put his phone on the table before turning to face his brother.

“Who?” 

Sherlock gave him a look.

“Oh, don’t play dumb Quentin. You are better than that. I want to meet this Double O.”

Q glared.

“I thought I told you to drop it.” He said.

Sherlock shrugged.

“Oh, I did. Gave Mycroft a lovely story about what I had seen. I am sure you would have enjoyed it, had you been there. But that was before I realised that your relationship with the Double O is more then it seems.” 

Sherlock trailed off, letting the words sink into his baby brother’s skull. If it was possible, Q’s glare darkened. 

“No.” He replied. 

Sherlock was silent. Footsteps drew closer to where the two men were sitting. 

Someone cleared his throat. 

Q looked away from his brother and up at Bond. The spy was holding two cups of tea and giving Sherlock a calculated look. The Quartermaster could already guess that Bond was assessing the situation, looking for threats. In his peripheral vision, Q saw Sherlock smile.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Sherlock prompted. 

Faintly, Q wondered if Mycroft could get him out of a murder charge. Certainly, there were a few people down at the Yard who would not fault Q for killing his brother. 

The young hacker looked up at the spy.

“Bond, this is my brother.” He offered as the secret agent set the cups down carefully, one of them right in front of Q, who took it gratefully. If this was going to happen in front of him, he would need the drink.

Sherlock rose, turning his body towards Bond.

“Sherlock Holmes.” He offered, holding out a hand.

Bond looked carefully at the hand before holding out his own.

“Bond. James Bond.” He replied, giving the hand a careful shake before glancing at Q. The young Quartermaster was definably looking uncomfortable. Bond waiting politely for Sherlock to release his hand but the man didn’t. Instead, the man stared at the spy. 

“You are ex-Navy.” He muttered.

Bond blinked.

“Your walk says it all. You move with a slightly smaller step then someone of your height should. It suggests that you have spent a lot of time aboard ships. The unpredictable nature of sea travel often leaves men somewhat wary of their footing. But it was a long time ago, you are more steady than most. You could have just been a sailor aboard a commercial ship but it is unlikely. The way you hold yourself, straight back even while relaxed, says military. You could, of course, just be a soldier who had some experience on ships but it is unlikely seeing as you are well groomed. Sailors are often better groomed then soldiers, a soldier is used to living in mud and doesn’t mind the occasional dirt but a sailor has to keep everything around him clean and clear. A safety issue among other things.” 

Sherlock took a breath as Bond blinked again, not sure how to handle the man before him.

“And now, you are secret service. Not unusual for a man like you. You have seen a lot of loss, mostly recent, that explains your guarded look. I am sorry by the way; it is always hard to lose loved ones. You have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, not surprising for someone in your position. You have recently returned from somewhere abroad but not too far abroad. Somewhere in Europe, most likely. Oh, and now I appear to have upset you...” Sherlock trailed off.

Q could see it too, as Bonds hand slowly inched towards the edge of his jacket and the faint outline of his gun. 

Realising he was close to witnessing his own brother’s murder, Q reached forward, catching Sherlock’s sleeve and pulled him down into his seat. Reluctantly, Sherlock let go of Bond, who relaxed slightly now that Sherlock was no longer in his face.

The spy lowered his hand but remained standing as Sherlock reclined in his seat. The detective eyed him as beside him, Q picked up his phone. Bond’s hands twitched.

“Little Brother.” Sherlock said in a sing song voice.

Q didn’t even look up from his phone.

“What?” He asked in a low tone of voice. A tone which said the phone was going to be rammed down Sherlock’s throat if he wasn’t careful. 

“Would you be a dear and get me a drink?” Sherlock asked. “Or are you going to be a brute to your brother?”

Q shot him a dirty look. 

“Now that’s not nice. What would Mummy think if she saw your behaviour?”

Slowly, the Quartermaster eyed his relaxed brother and then glanced up at Bond, who was still staring at the two of them in a stunned silence.

Q’s shoulders dropped.

“You have until I get back. Don’t break him.” He warned as he rose to his feet. 

In the blink of an eye, Sherlock reached forward and snatched Q’s phone away from him. Q didn’t even protest, instead turning and hurrying towards the door.

“They do a particular Almond and Date muffin here as well, which I am quite fond of.” 

The two remaining men heard the faint curse from the Quartermaster before the door closed behind him.

Finally, Sherlock looked up at Bond.

“Oh, sit down Double O Seven.” He complained. 

Not sure what else to do, James slipped into the seat which he had only recently vacated. 

Sherlock straightened before leaning forward, looking James straight in the eyes.

“Now, Mr Bond, some facts have come to my attention regarding my brother and as a good sibling, I feel I must investigate them. Of course, this is normally where our older brother would come in, but seeing as how he rarely feels the need to get himself involved in anything which doesn’t enhance his own comfort, I am afraid the job has been left to me.” 

If it were possible, Sherlock leant closer.

“What are your intentions regarding my brother?” 

James blinked. The man before him had seemingly read his life story only moments before, based on nothing more than his ability to walk and his clothing. He had talked about things which suggested that A. He had access to MI6’s files and could potentially be feeding such information to enemy groups (Which was most likely), B. He had learnt all this from Q who, judging by his reaction to all this, may actually be his brother (This was less likely. Q was incredibly tight lipped about everything and didn’t seem to be the sort of person who would casually offer information to anyone, even family) or C. He really did read all this from Bonds body language and behaviour (Which, although part of him was telling him was impossible, another part was quietly reminding him of witnessing Q do exactly that on more than one occasion)

And still, after all that, it looked like this Sherlock intended to do something normally only middle aged fathers would do for their teenage daughters. He was asking about Bond’s intentions! Towards his baby brother! 

Not sure what else to do, James went on the defence.

“What makes you think my relationship with Q is anything more than a working relationship?” He asked.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Do I really need to point out the many, _many_ ways I can tell that you are interested in a relationship with my brother? Or the many ways I can tell that he is just as interested in it as you?” The man asked.

James started slightly. Q was interested in a relationship with him? Certainly, James had been attempting to seduce Q. Sherlock was right about that even if James would never admit it to his face. But until now, James had always believed that any possible interest he had seen from the Quartermaster had been circumstantial at best and completely misread at worst. 

His eyes fell on Q’s phone, which Sherlock was fiddling with almost absentmindedly.

“Ah.” Sherlock muttered. “I take it you were unaware of my brothers affections until now.” 

Not sure what else to do, James nodded.

“For a spy, I would have thought you would be rather more observant. Well, let me make this clear to you, Mr Bond. I know your history. I know you think you kill everything you love. But I also know my brother. If you think you are the dangerous one in this relationship then you are gravely mistaken.” 

“Are you threatening me, Mr Holmes?” James asked, straightening in his seat.

Sherlock smiled.

“Of course not. I do not make a habit of getting involved in the affairs of my brothers. I am simply stating a fact. My brother may not look it, but he can take care of himself. If you are looking for a quick shag, you might want to back off before he decides to do something…drastic. But, if you are looking for a relationship, I can guarantee that he is worth fighting for.” 

James looked Sherlock in the eye. He didn’t like the other man’s tone, nor the implication that he would use Q for his own personal benefit but the underlying fact was clear.

“Are you giving me your blessing to date Q?” He asked, wanting to confirm that was what was really happening.

“I believe I am.” Sherlock replied. 

The door to the café opened and Q stepped outside. In one hand he held a take away cup, in the other a paper bag. Walking to the table, he placed them down in front of Sherlock before snatching his phone away from the older man. His blue eyes fixed on Sherlock.

“There is your tea. Now, go away.” He said as he slid back into his seat.

Sherlock smiled.

“I do love our civil conversations, little brother. They are so much more enjoyable than when we fight.” He said.

“I have no problem calling Mycroft and telling him what you are doing. Or Doctor Watson.” Q muttered. 

Sherlock’s smile widened. 

Slowly, the man unfolded his limbs and rose to his feet. Picking up the cup and bag, he turned to face James.

“Think on our conversation, Mr Bond.” He said.

Suddenly he moved to stand at Q’s side. He leant down, his mouth level with the Quartermasters ear.

“Take care with this one, Quentin. He understands you better than you think he does.” 

Q’s hand formed a fist.

“Go away, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock took a step backwards. 

“There was a car accident this morning and I have a few experiments to conduct involving a fire hose and a pair of lady’s shoes. Molly usually gives me first pick of the cadavers.”

With a quick wink to James, he turned and walked away. 

Beside Bond, Q slumped in his chair. He turned to the spy.

“Bond, I am so sorry for that. Had I known he was going to turn up, I wouldn’t have let you drag me out.” 

James nodded, his eyes fixed on the space where Sherlock had been seated only moments before. Beside him, Q shifted nervously. 

“What did he say to you?” The Quartermaster asked. It wasn’t uncommon for people to fall silent on meeting Sherlock Holmes for the first time, the detective literally stunning his victims into silence. 

The spy turned to study Q as if he was suddenly seeing the hacker for the first time. And, given that he had probably gotten a lot of information from Sherlock, it could be true. 

“He mentioned some interesting things regarding you.” The spy answered.

Q faintly wondered if he could put in a few calls, maybe have Sherlock evicted from 221B or at least, get his police friend to have a closer look at the things the detective kept in his bottom drawer. 

“Such as?” Q prompted, worry twisting in his gut. 

Bond smiled. He leant forward.

Q felt a dry pair of lips press against his in a brief kiss before the spy pulled away again, fixing the Quartermaster with a blue eyed stare. 

“Your move, Quartermaster.” Bond said 

Q found himself grinning. 

Later, he would think of ways he could thank his brother for his meddling. Later, he would shake his head at how he, a member of the Holmes family, had been so dense. Later, he would do a lot of things.

But for now, he was prepared to forget about later and just enjoy this.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I know there is no real way to prove this but I am interested in seeing if anyone knows more about it. Was it me who started Quentin as a name for Q? I originally got the crossover idea for these stories while on a Q Tumblr page (And watching Sherlock in the background while my computer loaded) but I never saw anyone suggest the name as a possibility. Then, after I posted 'Call Me Q', several other stories in the Bondlock fandom appeared with the name. From what I understand, it is a common name in the Bondlock Tumblr now, along with Quinn and Hamish.


End file.
